


Mother's Day

by Thestarlitrose



Series: Connecting the Stars [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1, But also his Nanny, Crowley is Warlock's mom, M/M, Mother's Day, The Dowling's are terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: A 5+1 style Mother's day fic that explores the years spent with Warlock Dowling before the apocalypse and one Mother's Day after.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth & Warlock Dowling, Warlock Dowling & Brother Francis
Series: Connecting the Stars [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547323
Comments: 15
Kudos: 112





	1. Four-Years-Old

The concept of Mother’s Day is difficult to grasp for children under four. This concept is even more difficult for little Warlock Dowling because his Mother and the woman who acted as his mother were two entirely different people.

Crowley's patience was wearing thin. She'd been told by the senior housemaid in no uncertain terms that Mrs. Dowling would be expecting a gift. A quick google search found that homemade cards and flowers were the usual gifts children gave their mother's, it seemed only fitting. 

The tricky part was getting Warlock to stay still long enough to get his hands painted. “Darling, let me paint your hand so we can put it on this paper.”

Warlock poked his lip out. “it’s cold Nanny!”

“So it is, hellspawn. But the sooner we do this, the sooner we can go visit Mr. Francis in the garden for lunch.” She gave him a pointed look and the boy stuck his hand out.

Crowley quickly painted Warlock's twitching hand and delicately placed it onto the paper to prevent smudging. "Don't wiggle your fingers."

Warlock huffed in reply but stopped moving his hands. 

“Perfect. Let’s get you cleaned up so we can eat.”

Warlock jumped from the table, smearing red paint on Crowley's skirt as the boy ran towards the bathroom. Two minor miracles and one thorough hand washing later, Crowley was sat on a picnic blanket with the remnants of lunch spread around her. 

After they'd finished eating, Aziraphale had taken the boy to collect some flowers to give to Harriet in the morning. She could only imagine the arrangement the angel and antichrist would come up with when allowed loose in the garden together.

Seizing the opportunity, Crowley had stretched out on the old tartan blanket to sunbathe. Had she had the time, a quick transformation would have been in order, but as it stood, she only had twenty minutes at the most before Warlock and Aziraphale returned.

Crowley had just started to doze when Warlock dove beside her.

“Nanny! Wake up!”

“Nope. I'm asleep."

"Nanny. Look at me."

"I think my little Hellspawn that you should sleep.” One eye peeped open to find the overly excited four-year-old starting at her intently.

“Nanny.”

“Here, just rest for a moment darling.” She opened her arms and Warlock gladly accepted. The boy cuddled into her chest with a content sigh followed by a soft yawn. It was well past his naptime and he seemed happy enough to be held.

Between the sun and Warlock’s warmth, Crowley fell asleep.

Aziraphale had made himself comfortable beside them, Warlock had fallen sleep much quicker than he typically did and the angel briefly wondered if it were due to a demonic miracle.

They looked content. Aziraphale was always surprised by the love the little boy had for Crowley and while he couldn't sense it coming from the demon, he was certain the feeling was mutual. 

Crowley’s phone was sitting on the blanket beside Aziraphale and they did look so very sweet—with Warlock tucked under her chin, a bit of the chocolate cake they’d had with lunch still smeared on Warlock's cheek.

Despite what Crowley seemed to believe, he did know how to work the phone well enough to unlock it; really, 666, the password was laughable, and open the camera app.

He took several pictures and gazed lovingly at the sleeping demon and child. Aziraphale adored moments like this when he could pretend.  
He let them sleep as long as he could, a book held in his hands that he couldn’t focus on. Finally, he put the book to the side and moved to wake them up. He pressed a light kiss to her temple, it was impulsive but Aziraphale would have time to fret about it later.

“Crowley, wake up.” Aziraphale jostled her shoulder. “Crowley, it’s nearing 3pm. If you don’t wake him up now, he’ll never sleep tonight.”

She shifted in her sleep and frowned without opening her eyes. 

“Crowley dear, you need to wake up. It’s nearly time for supper.” Aziraphale huffed. He pushed on her shoulder more firmly and a yellow eye peeped at him from over her glasses. “There you are. You’ve been asleep for two hours.”

“Ugh. I can’t feel my arse.”

“Crowley!”

She chuckled, “Relax, he’s asleep.”

"He looks so sweet, don't you think?"

Crowley raised a brow at the angel, "He's a menace."

"He most certainly is not!"

"You say that because you've never given him a bath or tried to put him to sleep."

Aziraphale nodded his agreement. “You should wake him up, dear, or he will be rather difficult tonight.”

"Yeah, yeah. Alright." Crowley rubbed slow circles over Warlock’s back, quietly humming something ancient under her breath until he began to stir. Blue eyes blinked up at her.

“Nanny?”

“Afternoon, hellspawn. Did you have a nice nap?”

He nodded, sitting back and stretching out his small arms. Still clutched tightly in one hand was a bruised camellia.

Warlock noticed it and frowned. “Oh.”

“It’s alright darling—”

“I forgot to give it to you. Mr. Francis helped me cut it and everything!”

Crowley blinked, “for me?”

“Mmhm!” He held out the single flower to her.

She swallowed, plucking it out of his hand. “Thank you.”

Warlock flung himself at her, hugging her tightly. “Love you, Nanny.”

“Love you too, hellspawn.”

Many years later, in a garden behind a cottage in the South Downs, a similar camellia bush, grown from a single trimming, would be in full bloom each spring. 


	2. Six-Years-Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta Read. Mistakes are my own.

Crowley stretched, popping the joints in her hip and back. 

She was technically off today but Thaddeus had begged her to stay on hand today in case his “rambunctious male child” decided to be a holy terror. It wasn't that Warlock was a bad child; or even a spoiled child given the circumstances, he just needed attention. A little affection and encouragement and he'd be perfectly fine to keep himself entertained for hours on end. 

The problem was; neither Warlock or his parents seemed to know what to make of the other when left alone with one another, which often left Crowley as the sole parental figure in the child's life. 

Crowley found herself sat at the old table in the gardener’s cottage sipping on tea and picking at the breakfast that the cook had handed her with a wink.

"For you and Francis, it's Mother's day after all and you deserve a treat too! We all know how much little Warlock loves you."

She'd mumbled a "thank you," and retreated to the cottage with a basket in hand and a deep flush resting across her high cheekbones. Everyone in the house assumed she and  _ Francis _ were seeing one another because of their tendency to sneak off together. Moments like that sent her reeling. It was one thing for her to fantasize about Aziraphale loving her, it was a whole different experience for humans to believe they were a couple. 

Crowley yawned into her teacup. The six-year-old Warlock hadn’t slept well the night before and had snuck into her bed twice because of nightmares. She was fairly certain they had something to do with Hastur and she had plans to douse him in holy water if he ever tried that shit again. It was one thing for Hastur to play with human's—it wasn't that she was a fan of his methods by any means, but she typically didn't get elbowed in the jaw by his other victims. 

The caffeine didn’t seem to be helping and Crowley wished she’d grabbed a cup of coffee before walking out to see Aziraphale. All the angel ever seemed to have stocked these days was Darjeeling. 

“Was Harriet pleased with her offerings this morning?” asked Aziraphale. 

Crowley rolled her eyes, “She didn’t even look at the card he made for her. I’m glad we took him into the city to buy something. She seemed pleased with the satin scarf and bottle of La Vie Est Belle.”

Aziraphale sighed, “what a pity, he does try so very hard to win her attention.”

“Is it really a surprise that they picked this family to raise the antichrist? They are terrible parents, Aziraphale.”

“Well. He does have you, my dear.”

Crowley laughed humorously. “Yeah, a demon who takes better care of him than his mother. As I said, it’s not a surprise they picked the Dowling’s.”

Silenced hung in the air. 

"I think you do a wonderful job. Demon or—"

There was a heavy knock on the door.

“Well. That didn’t last long,” she said wryly.

Aziraphale nodded. Set his cup down, and got up to open the door. 

Thaddeus was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, one leg tapping a staccato against the cement of the sidewalk with Warlock looking deflated behind him.

“Ah! Francis! Still dressed, thought we might catch Ms. Ashtoreth with her skirt up.” Thaddeus nudged Aziraphale in the chest with his elbow as he winked obnoxiously.

Aziraphale spluttered. He felt his face heat at the implication and tried his best to ignore the sudden twinge felt in his pants.

“Anyway, Harriet said she has a headache,” another wink, “so we—she needs some private time.”

“Oh.  _ Oh! _ of course." Aziraphale gestured towards the child. "Come on dear, we were just having some tea.”

Warlock began babbling excitedly about brunch and how his Mother had loved the gifts they'd picked out for her. 

Thaddeus turned without so much as a goodbye and practically ran from the small house. Aziraphale led Warlock into the tiny kitchen with a clenched jaw. The nerve of that man! It wasn’t that he was displeased to see Warlock at all. It was that he’d once again been shoved off and shown by their actions how little the boy meant to them.

Aziraphale sat the boy down at the table and snapped a smaller mug into existence for him to use. A little tea with plenty of warm milk and a teaspoon of sugar. He handed the mug to Warlock who happily accepted it from his hands. 

Warlock quietly sipped at his tea while Aziraphale and Crowley made idle chat.

The day was supposed to be special and by God, if Warlock couldn't spend it with his mother, he could spend it with his Nanny. An idea began to take shape. “What if,” began Aziraphale, “we take a little trip.”

Warlock perked up.

Crowley nodded, “the park? We could go feed the ducks?”

"Pleaseeee Francis?"

"I'll grab the peas," Replied Aziraphale tapping Warlock on the nose with his finger. 

The trio spent the afternoon walking around the park, feeding the ducks and having ice cream. They stopped for dinner at a little café near the bookstore Aziraphale had been craving before heading back to the estate.

Overall, Crowley had enjoyed herself. There was a part of her that had been thrilled to spend Mother’s day with Warlock and Aziraphale. It was getting more difficult to continue to lie to herself about the affection she felt for the two. It had been so much easier to only see the angel every few years, perhaps twice in one year he considered lucky. It helped him compartmentalize his feelings for Aziraphale. And now, playing Nanny for the destroyer of worlds... it was difficult. She loved that child. Dearly. As much she suspected she would if he'd formed beneath her heart. 

As Crowley tucked Warlock in for the night, her heart seemed simultaneously full and heavy. She smoothed the duvet around him, tucking the corners of the blanket around Warlock's shoulders. A serene smile playing at her lips despite the ache growing in her chest. 

“Goodnight Nanny, Happy Mother’s day.” He snuggled into the blankets as she brought them to rest around his shoulders.

“Oh. Hellspawn, I don’t have any children.”

“You have _me_.”

A lump formed in Crowley’s throat. _"You have no idea kid,"_ thought Crowley.“You’re right, darling. I do.” She kissed his forehead, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nanny. Love you.”

Crowley tucked a piece of hair behind the boy's ear. “Love you too, hellspawn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd. I know Mother's Day is different in England but in America, it's this Sunday. 
> 
> I woke up having a lot of feelings about Nanny and her Warlock and had to write this. 
> 
> If you are a Mom or a caretaker, I hope you have a lovely Mother's day! 
> 
> Find me on Twitter: Thestarlitrose  
> Or Tumblr: Aziraphalesrarebooks


End file.
